


A Change in Plans

by Hovercraft79



Series: Alan's Girls [1]
Category: The Bletchley Circle, The Bletchley Circle: San Francisco (TV)
Genre: Bletchley Era (The Bletchley Circle), Gen, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29597787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hovercraft79/pseuds/Hovercraft79
Summary: It's Valentine's Day, 1942 at Bletchley Park and Jean McBrian is looking forward to a quiet evening in her quarters. Before she can make her retreat, she spots one of her girls alone in the break room - the last girl she'd expect to find dateless on any Saturday night, much less Valentine's Day. Will Jean stick to her own plans? Or open up to the possibility of a new friendship?
Relationships: Millie Harcourt & Jean McBrian
Series: Alan's Girls [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2174490
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	A Change in Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This shortfic is the first of what I hope will be a series based on Millie, Jean, Lucy and Susan's time at Bletchley Park, back when they were all Alan's Girls fighting against the Germans.
> 
> It has no bearing really on _Flesh Wounds_ other than being a distant prequel. It doesn't matter if you've read the other or not.
> 
> It was meant to be ready for Valentine's Day 2021, but I'm from Texas and, well... we've had a bit going on this week. 
> 
> As always, thanks to Sparky for editing my work and improving it immeasurably.

February 14, 1942

Music carried through Bletchley Park on the wind, only slightly muffled by the huts standing between Jean and the temporary cantina that had been set up at the edge of the property. She paused to listen, recognizing a lively Andrews Sisters tune.

A door slammed and Jean could hear hushed giggling and footsteps racing towards the cantina. What was it about Valentine’s Day that turned sensible men and women into swooning fools? Jean checked her watch. Half past eight. Unless she wanted to spend her entire Saturday evening dealing with the countless fraternization infractions that were most certainly happening all around her, she needed to get herself tucked away in her room. A good book and a strong cup of tea sounded far better than filling out paperwork for every girl that missed curfew.

She’d just turned the corner to head back to her barracks when she spotted a light in the break room – which should have been cleared out two hours ago. She sighed. Her tea and chapter three of _The Keys of_ _the Kingdom_ would have to wait. Squaring her shoulders, Jean strode towards the hut, hoping the clop of her sturdy heels would provide sufficient warning to whoever was inside. She’d gotten an eyeful only last month when she’d opened a supply cupboard after the tea dispenser had sprung a leak. She didn’t care to repeat the experience.

Jean stopped to listen at the door but didn’t hear anything. She pushed the door open, stopping short of the point where the hinges started to squeak. She just managed to squeeze through the narrow opening. Ears straining for any hint of a sound, Jean moved further into the room, finally spotting her quarry.

A head bent low over the table, auburn hair pulled back by a colorful scarf. That could only belong to one person – Millie Harcourt. Tall, thin to the point of skinniness, the woman had a brilliant mind for languages and geography and a maddeningly rebellious nature that years of aristocratic upbringing and the finest finishing schools hadn’t been able to tame in the slightest. But what was she doing here? Jean cleared her throat. Millie didn’t look up. Jean cleared her throat again, louder this time.

“What?” Millie’s head popped up. “Jean?” Her fingers fluttered over her hair and blouse.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I saw the light on… what are you doing here? I’d think you’d have a line of would-be suitors vying for your attentions on the dance floor.”

“No,” Millie said quickly. Too quickly. “No suitors for me.” She smiled up at Jean as she straightened the papers in front of her. “I thought I’d take advantage of the quiet and sort out this translation. It’s Bulgarian, not my specialty.”

The glossy sheen in Millie’s eyes didn’t escape Jean’s notice. “I’m sure you’ll crack it easily enough.”

Millie pressed her lips together in something Jean knew was meant to be a smile. “How about you? It’s a bit dreary to be out prowling amongst the huts. Surely there’s someone waiting to cut a rug with Miss McBrian?”

“That’s why I’m hiding out here, dearie. My dance card’s so full I’m afraid it’ll set off a melee if I actually show up.”

Millie leaned back in her chair, staring up at Jean as though she’d sprouted a second head. Jean McBrian didn’t make jokes. Did she? “I’m sure your exaggerating,” she said, after a moment. “I doubt it would be any more than a rumpus, possibly not even a brouhaha.”

Jean barked out a laugh. After a moment Millie laughed as well. “I’m planning on hiding out in my room and save myself the trouble of writing out disciplinary notes on half the staff tonight.” She cocked her head, studying Millie a moment. “I’ve got a pot of tea ready to go and a tin of shortbread biscuits my mother sent that I’ve no business eating all on my own. Care to join me for a hand or two of gin rummy?”

Millie’s eyes widened at the invitation. She glanced at the books and papers scattered on the table beside her. Before she could decline, Jean spoke again.

“If tea doesn’t suit, I might have a nip or two of something a bit more potent.”

“Now you have my full attention,” Millie said, pushing the papers into a crisp manilla folder. “What the hell… I think I’ve had my fill of Bulgarian.” She stood up and tucked the folder under her arm. “Your mum still sends you tuck boxes?”

“Shut up.”

Jean led Millie back to her quarters, unlocking the door and hanging her coat on the hook. She waited for Millie to hand hers over. “Shall we start with the tea?” She didn’t wait for Millie’s answer; rather she set the kettle to boiling on a battered hotplate and proceeded to lay out the plates and biscuits.

Jean watched as Millie took a moment to explore her room, feeling a bit exposed. She rarely invited anyone into her personal quarters. With functional furnishings and Spartan décor, Jean knew it wasn’t anything special. Utilitarian at best, Jean had never gotten around to making it feel like home. Not that it lacked every creature comfort – similar in size to the room Millie shared with Evelyn Howard, Jean had the place all to herself. Instead of two bunks, Jean enjoyed a bunk and a small settee. Most importantly, she had her own sink and a tiny table. She saw Millie inspect the pyjamas laid out across the foot of the bed, warm flannel with an equally warm-looking woolen robe. Practical for the poorly insulated huts, but certainly not the glamorous or elegant frock she imagined Millie wore to bed.

Millie picked up the book from the side table, reading the blurb before putting it down again. “I have interrupted your plans for tonight.”

“Here you go,” Jean set the teapot in the middle of the table and motioned for Millie to join her. “You’ve changed them. It’s hardly an interruption, however…” She bent over and removed her pumps, sighing in relief as she slid her feet into a pair of gray woolen slippers. “Much better.” She pulled a silver flask from the cupboard over the sink before dropping into the chair across from Millie. “Here you go, proper Scotch whisky… unless you’d rather have a dollop of milk that’s just gone off.” Her lips twitched into a tiny grin.

“Jean McBrian – we aren’t allowed alcohol in the dormitories!” Millie slapped a hand against her chest, feigning shock and outrage.

“We aren’t allowed fifteen smoke breaks before luncheon, but here we are.” She added a healthy pour to each teacup.

“Did your mum send that in your tuck box as well?” Millie took a tentative sip. “Mmm… that’s a nice one.”

Jean blew on her tea and nodded her agreement. “She most certainly did not.” Taking a drink, Jean closed her eyes and swirled the hot, peaty liquid over her tongue. “My brother Robbie sent it last time he traveled home on leave.”

“Good brother.”

“That he is.” Jean leaned over and pulled a deck of cards out of the drawer next to the sink. “You can shuffle.” She popped the top off the tin and placed three biscuits on each of their plates. “There’s plenty more, if you’ve a mind for them.”

Millie smiled and began dealing the cards. “So, what’s the gossip amongst the brass? I heard from Abrams in Hut 5 that Randall Ellington got nicked with a call girl on his last trip to London.”

Jean frowned at her cards before answering. “Same old, same old. Those men are worse than a hen party when it comes to gossip. Although…” she waited for Millie to look up. “I don’t suppose it would hurt to tell you that I think you might be getting a new roommate soon.”

“What? Why would I—” Millie dropped her cards on the table. “Bloody hell. Evelyn’s gone and told that tosser Phillip that she’d marry him, hasn’t she? How did you know that before I did?”

“I have my sources,” Jean answered, primly. “And I don’t reckon she has much of a choice about marrying the bloke, if you take my meaning.”

“Bloody hell…” A slow smile spread across Millie’s face as she leaned across the table, cards forgotten. “What else have you heard?”

* * *

With a last shuffle of the cards, Millie slipped the deck back in its box. Jean cleared away their teacups and plates. They both fiercely ignored the sound of shushed giggles outside Jean’s window. With nothing left to do, Millie stood and smoothed her trousers. “Thank you.”

Jean furrowed her brows. “There’s no need to thank me, dearie.”

Millie smiled, a little bit sad. “I know you didn’t plan to spend your evening playing nurse-maid to me.” She pointed her chin towards the novel on the small table by Jean’s bed. “I’m sorry.”

“Nonsense. This was far more enjoyable than what I had planned.” Jean nodded, smiling herself when she realized the truth of that statement. Tonight had been more than pleasant. Away from the other girls, Millie Harcourt had given her snark and bluster the night off, swapping them for a dry wit and intelligent conversation. Jean had rather enjoyed her company.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Millie seemed to brighten a bit. “Who’d have thought tonight would turn out to be such fun. With Jean McBrian! What will the girls think?” She winked, a bit of mischief sparkling in her eyes again.

“That you’ve gone mad.” Jean chuckled. She knew her girls respected her – knew they’d come to her if they were in trouble. But she also knew most of them were more than a little intimidated by her. Millie though? She couldn’t imagine what might intimidate Millie Harcourt. “You’d best keep that under your hat.”

Millie moved to the doorway. “I don’t think I will, actually.” She arched one eyebrow, daring Jean to object. When an objection didn’t come, she pulled Jean into a quick hug. “I really did have a splendid time with you tonight. Maybe we can do it again sometime?”

Jean stepped back, flustered by the hug and the idea that Millie Harcourt wanted to spend time with her again. “I…” A hundred reasons why they shouldn’t raced across her mind, her position as Millie’s supervisor first among them. And yet… Despite the fact that she spent her days constantly surrounded by people, friends were few and far between here. “I’d like that,” she said, as surprised to hear herself say it as Millie seemed to be to hear it.

“Good. Next time then.” Millie smiled again, softer this time, before bidding Jean goodnight.

“Next time,” Jean said, closing the door behind her.


End file.
